Good-Bye to the Refuge
Fresh Claims of Insanity
Marchioness Barolo became alarmed by all that was being said about Don Bosco, especially because the city council of Turin were opposed to my projects. One day she came to my room to speak to me. She began,
I am very pleased with the care you take of my institutions. Thank you for all you have done to introduce in them hymn-singing, plainchant, music, arithmetic, and even the metric system.
No thanks necessary. These are duties which priests must perform. God will repay everything. No need to mention it further.
I wanted to say that I regret very much how your multiple occupations have undermined your health. You cannot possibly continue to direct my works and that of your abandoned boys, especially now when their number has increased beyond counting. I propose to you that from now on you concentrate just on your obligations, that is, the direction of my little hospital. You should stop visiting the prisons and the Cottolengo and give up all your care for the youngsters. What do you say to that?
My Lady Marchioness, God has helped me up to now and will not fail me in the future. Don’t worry about what should be done. Fr Pacchiotti, Dr Borrelli, and I will do everything.
But I cannot allow you to kill yourself. Whether you like it or not, so many diverse activities are detrimental to your health and my institutions. And then there are the gossip about your mental health and the opposition of the local authorities, which oblige me to advise you.
Advise me to do what, My Lady Marchioness?
Give up either the work for boys or the work at the Refuge. Think about it and let me know.
I can tell you right now. You have money and will have no trouble in finding as many priests as you want for your institutes. It’s not the same with the poor youngsters. If I turn my back on them at his time, all I’ve been doing for them now will go up in smoke. Therefore, while I will continue to do what I can for the Refuge, I will resign from any regular responsibility and devote myself seriously to the care of abandoned youngsters.
But how will you be able to live?
God has always helped me, and he’ll help me also in the future.
But your health is ruined; you’re no longer thinking straight. You’ll be engulfed in debt. You’ll come to me, and I tell you here and now that I’ll never give you a soldo for your boys. Now take my motherly advice. I’ll continue to pay your salary, and I’ll increase it if you wish. Go away and rest somewhere for a year, three years, five years. When you’re back to health, come back to the Refuge and you’ll be most welcome. Otherwise you put me in the unpleasant position of having to dismiss you from my institutes. Think it over seriously.
I’ve thought it over already, My Lady Marchioness. My life is consecrated to the good of young people. I thank you for the offers you’re making me, but I can’t turn back from the path which Divine Providence has traced out for me.
So you prefer your vagabonds to my institutes? In that case, you are dismissed from this moment. This very day I shall arrange for somebody to take your place.
I pointed out to her that such a sudden dismissal would give rise to conjectures that would do neither of us credit. It would be better to act calmly and preserve between us that charity about which we should both have to answer before the Lord’s tribunal.
In that case, she concluded, I give you three months’ notice. After that you will leave the direction of my little hospital to others.
I accepted my dismissal, abandoning myself to whatever God’s plan for me might be.
Meanwhile, the reports that Don Bosco had gone mad were gaining strength. My friends were grieved; others were amused. But they all kept far away from me. The archbishop did not interfere. Fr Cafasso advised me to bide my time; Dr Borrelli kept quiet. Thus all my helpers left me alone in the midst of about four hundred boys.
At that time some respectable persons wanted to take care of my health.
This Don Bosco, they said amongst themselves, has some fixations which will inevitably end up in madness. Perhaps he would benefit by treatment. Let’s take him to the asylum and leave it to them to do whatever they think best.
Two of them were appointed to come with a carriage to pick me up and escort me to the asylum. The two emissaries greeted me politely and then inquired about my health, the Oratory, the future building and church; they sighed deeply and exclaimed aloud, It’s true.
After that they invited me to go for a drive with them.
A little air will do you good. We have a carriage at hand.
We’ll go together and have time to converse.
At this point, I understood their game, and without letting on that I had them figured out, I walked with them to the carriage, insisting that they get in first and take their places. But instead of getting in there myself, I slammed the door shut and called out to the coachman,
Straight to the asylum with all speed.
They’re expecting these two priests there.